park place

Finally got some dirt under my fingernails, and it's only, what? Thursday? Gotta stop complaining so much . . .

But not yet. Anybody out there addicted to this show? Not that I think you would or should be, mind - I'm a little ambivalent about the whole idea myself - it just seems like the kind of niche reality TV that those who watch might watch religiously. Anyway, just since the one consistent aspect of this trip seems to be the constant lurking presence of endlessly grinding PR engines, these are the folks who will be selling the fruits of our free labor to advertisers on ABC sometime in the near future. And what fruits they are, no? See for yourself:

Nice, eh? Now here's a couple of images that probably won't be heavily featured on commercial television . . .

Dunno. Guess it's still fairly innocuous from this distance. Here's a closer look:

Not a terribly uncommon sign in the area surrounding the park. The neighborhood is wasted, basically. Row upon row upon row of empty shells filled with the detritus of human lives; an occasional driveway hosting a FEMA trailer, but mostly total abandonment, total bewilderment. And a film crew in the middle of this post-apocalyptic wasteland, surrounded by thousands of dollars worth of plants, mulch, earth-moving equipment, and six-dozen volunteers, jockeying for space in front of the cameras.

Don't get me wrong - I'm aware of how hugely negative I must come off at times in these entries. But my experience of the project was not a negative one - at least not in strictly visceral terms. We built and planted a berm, and there's very little in life that gives me more pleasure than putting shovel to dirt, then standing back and surveying how I've changed the shape and color of the earth with my human hands. It's basic, absolutely elemental. And the whole scene was, really - like ants after a rainstorm, moving grains of sand from place to place without a thought for the reality that nature, in the fullness of time, will undoubtedly move them back again. We do it because it's what we do; we act upon the earth to show that we have occupied it; we act upon it in total conviction that the visible results of our actions, however brief they may be in the face of eternity, will stretch beyond our own lives and touch the future, in some unforeseen way.

But outside of the visceral experience of the act itself, it's all a steaming pile of philosophical horse shit (a commodity readily available in the French Quarter, incidentally - actually rather hard to avoid [sorry Felisa - promise we'll wash the floor mats . . .]). The reality is, the park is incidental - although I'm sure the middle class white folks who return and rebuild the neighborhood will get some very real plesure out of it, just as I got some very real pleasure out of helping to build it. The important thing, the thing that motivates the mustering of this (frankly) disproportionate concentration of resources, is the process itself - because, in the age of 'reality' TV, that process can be commidified, and served up to viewers with a high-gloss shine. Just remember, as you're watching, and those polished images are producing the desired emotional effect of uplift and catharsis, that it's a catharsis you're paying for - the reality is much more complex, and not a little darker.

Tomorrow (hopefully): a few words on Common Ground , an organization that, by all appearances, is deeply engaged with the realities that New Orleans is facing right now.

-Dan